Page 164 of Pucked Around and Found Out

I cup my tits and let out a heady moan. I spread my legs wider and draw them back, forcing him back to rest on his heels. He grips my calves then throws my legs over each of his shoulders and pushes forward, but not far enough that there is pressure on my belly.

He may not acknowledge this baby with words but he is with his actions.

“This what you wanted, Tink?” he growls and thrusts into me. A scream of carnal desire and need rips out of me.

“Fuck, yes!”

His eyes darken as he draws almost all the way out of me then slams into me again with enough force that I shift up in the sand. The feeling of the sand in crevices it shouldn’t be no longer bothers me, as the feeling of him inside me overrides everything.

“Xaden, I need⁠—”

“Shut the fuck up, Tink!” he snaps. “I know exactly what you need,” he declares, sending a shiver down my spine. This is not any other time. Neither of us will give voice to it but we can feel it. I see it in the way his eyes rove over my face and take in every detail. Each sound that escapes me, he’s feasting upon it like a starved animal.

His tempo shifts, then builds, relentless and consuming. At some point the sand, the cold and the rest of the world stop existing. There is only this. Only him. I slide a hand down my front, loving the way he tracks my movements, and the unhinged look that overshadows his features when I circle my clit nearly sends me over the fucking edge.

“Eyes on me, Devlin,” I pant. He snaps his head up and looks just as shocked as I feel that he actually listened. “Right there,” I cry and apply more pressure to my clit.

“Give it to me, I want you to mark my cock, Tink.”

As if he’s the master who holds the key to my orgasms, I do as he says. I come so hard with his name tearing out of me that I see black spots dancing in my vision. My throat is still sore from the fire but it doesn’t stop me from screaming his name.

“Fuck yes,” he snarls, then pulls out of me. I’m ready to curse at him but don’t get a chance. He lifts me, then flips me so I’m on my hands and knees. I barely have a chance to stabilize myself before his hands are gripping my sand covered ass, then he slams into me with such force that my arms buckle and I land on my elbows.

Fuck!

He feels so good, I can barely catch my breath. The sounds coming from me are unwomanly but I don’t care. It feels too fucking good. He feels so fucking good inside me. He grips my hair and pulls me up so my back is flush against his chest, and I tip my head to look at him. “I need you,” I murmur and I mean it in every way those three words can possibly hold.

“Fuck me just like this,” he demands, then seals his mouth to mine.

His hands move across my body like he's mapping me, committing me to memory. And then one hand cups my breast and the other presses flat against my stomach and I stiffen.

He doesn't stop. But for one fractured second, he falters in the kiss. Just barely. Just enough. His hand stays. Doesn't move. Doesn't acknowledge. But stays.

Tears burn the backs of my eyes and I refuse to let them fall. I can't fall apart here. Not in his arms.

When I slam down onto him I can’t contain it, I break the kiss and scream.

“Fuck, please just like that,” I plead.

“Give it to me,” he snaps and releases my tit, only to wrap that hand around my throat and squeeze. The instant he restricts my airway, I finally shatter. It’s potent and feral, like a bolt of lightning slamming into me. His name doesn't come out as a sound, it comes out as a prayer. Torn from somewhere deeper than my throat.

“Tink!” he roars, as he follows me over the edge a moment later. The way he says my name, just that one word, fractured and reverent, does something to me I refuse to examine. If I name it, I'll break. And I can't afford to break while I'm still in his arms and close enough for him to catch me.

I breathe in the scent of him, memorizing the weight of his presence.

No one ever said loving the devil would be easy.

But no one ever warned me that the hardest part wouldn't be surviving him.

It would be surviving the moment I chose to leave.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

XADEN

When my eyes finally focus again and I look at her, it's like seeing her for the first time, really seeing her, not just the version of her I'd constructed to keep myself at a safe distance. I don't know how or why, but something has shifted irrevocably and it's fucking terrifying. Like a lens clicking into focus that you can never blur back out.

She darts her tongue out to moisten her lips and swallows. Normally I would have already pulled away by now, physically, emotionally, every way that counts. Distance is the only language I've ever been fluent in. But tonight I don't want to let go, and that want sits in my chest like a foreign object my body doesn't know how to absorb.